Talking 'Bout Women
by Lena Carr
Summary: Noah and Carl have a conversation on the porch. Noah/Beth, smutless, T for language, 2K words.


**A/N:** At the end.

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The sun was just a hair past noon, on the hottest day Noah had seen in – he couldn't remember. Grady Memorial had been the next best thing to eternal detention, but they had managed to keep the a/c running. To the point where he'd nearly forgotten that the glorious color of outside came with heat, and humidity, and bugs. He shut his eyes, remembered the gleam of sweat on his father's neck, and smiled, hearing the voice in his head, _you gonna lollygag all day, boy? Or you gonna get your narrow ass off that chair and give your old man a hand?_

"Sitting there all day?" The voice behind him jerked Noah out of the bittersweet memory. Nothing like his Dad – high, sweet, a girl's musical voice. Everything he'd been dreaming of, if he'd known what to dream about.

Keeping his shoulder on the porch column and maintaining his cool, Noah turned his head to look up at Beth. _Not as good as looking down_ – lots of advantages to being a whole head higher than your girl – but still, wasn't she something? Bright gold hair, skin a sort of pinky-gold – he'd never seen the _point_ of white girls before, had imagined his perfect girl as something sort of like his mom, dark eyed, skin a warm glowing brown and ... _curvy_. But Beth's skin was – despite the couple of freckles – a bright clear sort of sugar-sandy that seemed the sunshine version of beautiful shadows. She had eyes the color of the sky. And yeah, skinny, but round enough, where it counted. He wondered what she would look like, standing at the beach, with the waves coming up behind her, and the pale sand. _Would the sky over the water match her eyes? Would it be the waves?_

Now those beautiful eyes narrowed, and her yellow-white eyebrows drew together in a frown. _Oh, she didn't like something. What was it? He'd go beat that thing to death, just watch him…_

"There somethin' on my face, Noah?"

Ooops. "Uh. No. Nothing. Just…" He started to clamber to his feet, but Beth put a hand to his shoulder and pushed him back down.

"No, don't worry, I got it. Just going to pick dandelions for supper. You stay here, Carol and Sasha wanted to talk to you about weapons lessons." There was a wide plastic bowl in her other hand, green as the little leaves on the flowers on her yellow shirt.

Noah sank back down, helpless under the pressure of her fingers. "Uh. I could help. You know. If you needed a hand."

Already three strides down the steps, Beth turned her head to smile that brilliant grin over her shoulder. "No, I got it. Daryl's going to go with, show me where to look."

Noah swallowed against the lump in his gut. "Okay. You. Ah. Have fun." Beth smiled even wider, hair swishing as she bounced away. Then, in that sudden reversal that made his feet tangle, just thinking about staying up with her, Beth was turning back again, coming up the steps two at a time, catching herself with one hand as she knelt beside him.

"I'm going to look for blackberries, down by the road, after I get back. Wanna come with me?" He blinked, opened his mouth, but no sound came out. "Oh, come on, it'll be fun. Daryl won't pick berries with me."

Noah managed a short nod. Beth rewarded him with another smile, and then nearly shocked him into a heart attack by leaning in and pecking a kiss on his cheek. "Awesome. Come find me, when you're done with lessons. I'll wait for you."

Down across the yard, someone called her name. Oh, God, Daryl the terrifying, coming around the corner of the shed and shading his eyes to look up at the house. Beth turned her head, waved, and launched herself off the porch steps, bowl firmly in hand.

Noah watched her run down the path, finally slowing to fall in beside the hunter, all bare arms and sweaty skin. Noah sighed, put his chin on one fist, and mournfully kissed a peck at the air. "Mwah."

He about jumped out of his skin when Carl spoke in his ear."You have no idea what to do with her, do you?"

"I told you, cut that shit out!" Carl easily side stepped Noah's swing, then plopped his hat-wearing butt down on the porch next to him. "And it's not like you know any better, shrimp."

"That supposed to make me feel bad? Remember, I'm not up on all the jive, so you have to explain dees tings ta me." Noah rolled his eyes. Evidently, Mz Michonne had been having some fun at the expense of Carl's vocabulary again. Noah would have to talk to her about that – she _knew_ Noah was the only one Carl would dare try that on.

"One more word, white boy, and I will kick your phony sheriff ass." He tried to channel Mz Michonne. Or Mr Grimes. Or Abraham. Or Mz Carol. Anyone scary.

As he could have predicted, it didn't work. Carl just snorted. "Shaking." He kicked his feet back and forth. "And that wasn't an answer."

"I had lots of girlfriends. I know more than you ever will."

Carl just stared back at him with that _you lie so bad, it's funny_ look that belonged on someone three times the younger boy's age. No, _four_ times. He nodded, slowly, twice, and then looked out over the yard. "She had a boyfriend, before. Two of them. Nice guys. She said Zack was a really good kisser."

"Shut up. Don't need your help."

"Oh, yeah? How about this – she was sweet on Daryl for a while, you know." Carl leaned back on his elbows, looked up at the porch ceiling. "Don't think she really got over him. Older guy, all kinds of experience. Sure hope you can compete with that."

"Daryl's with Mz Carol. He doesn't even really like Beth." Even as he said it, Noah felt his conviction waver.

"You keep telling yourself that. Glenn and Tara keep saying that, but me, I don't see it."

Noah groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Fuck my life."

"Not an answer, either."

Noah gave up. Not worth the effort to pretend he didn't know what Carl was talking about. Or that he did know. Dropping his hands, he said, "Okay, wise ass, you tell me." When Carl opened his mouth, Noah raised a finger in warning. "Nuh-uh. You tell me what you know, and how you know it. Because I still don't believe you know more than how to kiss your baby sister."

The horrified look on Carl's face was worth the mental image Noah had conjured up with his own words. "You are _gross_."

"Hey, bring it, big man. Or admit you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

Carl swung his feet more, craned his head around to look over his shoulder at the house, and the older people still talking inside. Leaning towards Noah, he said, "Okay, so I spent like, _months_, two cells down from Glenn and Maggie, and they were really sloppy about putting their sheet up all the way."

Noah nodded, completely not following, but willing to let that slide. Carl went on. "And you can hear Abraham and Rosita all the time, right? But that's just spying from a distance. And eavesdropping. Not like, first hand. I can get you that."

"You?" Noah laughed. "You got something, boy? Or just stuff from a magazine? 'Cause I read all those, at the hospital. Don't need you to tell me you read the same ones."

"Magazines? You had magazines? With, like, pictures?" Carl seemed impressed.

"Well, yeah." Actually, it had been one magazine, left abandoned in the common room one morning. And an illustrated manual on childbirth, which wasn't nearly as useful. "But they all got left there. I didn't actually get to pack a bag."

"That sucks." For a moment, Carl stared off at the distance, as if brooding on things left behind. Noah let him stew for a minute, then elbowed him again.

"Get me what? Postcards? Nasty-ass cds?"

"We don't have batteries, stupid." Carl shook his head, acting like he was saying something Noah didn't already know. Then he dropped the act and leaned closer again. "But really, I got an inside on girls. How they think, what they like, what to say."

"Yeah? Who?" Despite himself, Noah felt himself drawn in, his voice lowering, his attention on Carl. "Don't be telling me you got Abraham telling you tales." A sudden thought hit him. "Jesus. Is it Mz Michonne?"

Carl made a face. "_Michonne_? No. I got someone who's _much_, much better." His eyes narrowed, grew crafty, and his voice dropped down to a whisper. "I might let you in on my source. If you made it worth my while."

Noah recoiled. "Oh, come on! No!" He'd been with the group for less than a week, not counting the three terrified days he'd spent on the road with Beth and Dr Edwards, but already he knew how this ended up. Heck, twelve hours had been long enough to teach him that Carl had a nose for chocolate like a bloodhound. "Ain't got anything, anyway. And even if I did – no. "

Carl drew back, gave him that Lying Cat look again, and shrugged. "Okay." He made as though to get up. Noah watched, helpless, as his hand reached out and grabbed Carl's wrist, while his mouth opened up and said, "Please."

Carl looked at the hand on his arm, then up at Noah. "Payment first. The Baby Ruth and the Big Cat."

"How did you even know –" Noah swallowed. "Half up front. The other half if I like your source." Carl cocked his head at Noah. "IF."

The door opened behind them. Carl grinned and said, "Deal. See you after berries." He scrambled up as both Mz Sasha and Mz Carol came out on the porch, rifles slung. "Hey. You guys taking Noah for shooting lessons? Can I come?"

"Since when do you need that much extra practice, Carl?" Mz Carol said. Noah felt her eyes scrape over him, and jerked to his feet.

"Yeah, weren't you just telling Tyreese how good you were with a pistol?" Unlike Mz Carol, Mz Sasha wasn't smiling. Carl gulped.

"Um. Practice is always good?" Even Noah had to grin. Carl was smooth – not as smooth as he thought he was, but still pretty good. Good enough that Mz Carol smiled even as she shook her head.

"Yes. And no. You go practice chopping wood with Tara and Abraham. Off with you." She held out a handful of cans – still sticky with bean juice – to Noah. "You carry these. Come on."

Noah threw one last glance over his shoulder at Carl, who was looking back at him even as the younger boy opened the screen door. Carl gave him an encouraging grin and mouthed _later_ before he let the door slam and disappeared inside.

Noah sighed, cradled the slick cans against his chest, and followed the two older women down the path, away from where ever Beth had gone off. With Daryl, terror of the woodways.

"Not waiting on you, boy!" Sasha hollered over her shoulder.

_This source better be worth it_, Noah thought, and trotted to catch up.

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_end_

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A/N: AU after S5E8. Noah/Beth, some mention of Caryl. Rated T for teenage boy language. For more information on Carl's "Source", see "Girl Talk" by The Reader's Muse.


End file.
